


Good hunting

by KeeperofSeeds



Series: Canticle of Silence: Dissonant Verses [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blanket Permission, Disabled Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Double Drabble, Drabble, Dragon hunting, Gen, Hangover, Hinterlands (Dragon Age), Male-Female Friendship, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds
Summary: The Inquisitor and her team take down their first dragon





	1. The Fereldan Frostback

She feels a touch of hysterical laughter bubble up inside her. And oh, it _hurts_. The smoke and yelling have strained her throat in a way she knows she’ll be paying for, but the sight of the grand Madame du fer sitting on a rock, sneering at the blood and muck on her robes, with her still smoking hat sends Evelyn over the edge, relief and disbelief mixing together.

They did it.

They killed a dragon.

Evelyn lets the Iron Bull’s roar of triumph wash over her, takes in Cassandra’s careful stepping alongside the corpse. _They_ did this. Her team.


	2. The morning after

Evelyn sits folded forward, head resting on the cool wood of the table, trying to ignore the still fuzzy taste of her tongue and the uncertain rolling of her stomach.

“Serves you right for drinking with that great brute.” Dorian declares, sitting down far too loudly in her corner of the tavern.

She doesn’t bother trying to sign anything, just raises a finger in his direction. He’s terrible at understand her signs in the best circumstances, but this is one gesture he can’t miss.

He scoffs. “Such manners you southern mages have! Such cruelty to the one of your own. One who brings breakfast. And with no promise of reward even!”

Evelyn peer up to see a bowl of oatmeal. Dorian looks smug as she takes it and she flashes him a finger once more, smiling this time between bites.  
It really is good. Mild enough for her stomach but with enough cinnamon to keep it from being referred to as gruel.

She put down her spoon and raises her hand to her chin, properly signing thank you. That one he knows at least.

“You’re welcome my dear,” he replies, “and beware of Qunari bearing free gifts in the future.”


End file.
